[BRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CALIFORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


~9 


GOLDEN  MEMORIES 


GOLDEN  MEMORIES 


By 
ANNA  YARNALL 


INNES  &  SONS 
129-135  N.  1 2th  St. 
Phil  adelphia 


COPYRIGHT 

1919 
BY  ANNA  YARNALL 


•Press  of 
INNES  &  SONS 
Philadelphia 


PS 
354-7 


A  message  of  kindliest  greeting 
To  you  where'er  you  may  be, 

Whom  in  thought  I  call  "my  children," 
This  little  book  bears  from  me. 


623946 


CONTENTS 

NEAR  TO  NATURE'S  HEART  Pase 

Nature's    Temple 3 

The    Adirondacks 4 

Sunset  at  Keswick,  Eng 8 

Dreaming — at  Cape  May 11 

The  Moon 12 

An  Autumn  Ride 13 

Robin  Hill — After  a  Sleet  Storm 16 

The  Prostrate  Forest  Giant 19 

A  Summer  School 22 

A  Study  in  Green 24 

By  the  Sea — at  Pacific  Grove,  California 25 

Lake  St.  Mary 27 

The  Woodland  Path 28 

Spring    29 

Autumn    31 

Autumn  Leaves 34 

Winter — for  a  Charitable  Organization  of  Little 

Girls 37 

The  Rhyme  of  the  Blizzard 39 

The   Leaflet 42 

June 44 

Avalon — Catalina     45 

Marblehead     46 

To  the  Anna  W 47 

Bon    Voyage 48 

WHERE  FLOWERS  BLOOM 
AND  BIRDS  SING 

Meadow  Flowers 51 

The  Harebells 52 

Bird  Songs 54 

Eventide  in  Veery  Cove 57 

The  Oriole 60 

The  Rose's  Message 61 

Song  of  the  Flowers 62 

Trailing    Arbutus 63 

Violets    .                                                                             ,  64 


Page 

The  Sweet  Brier  Rose 65 

California  Poppies 66 

LOVING  THOUGHT 
AND  EARNEST  FEELING 

To  My  Friends 71 

To  S.  G.  Y.— On  Her  90th  Birthday 72 

The  Golden  Lining 74 

The   Hour   Glass 76 

Let  Us  Have  Peace 77 

Thy  Kingdom  Come 80 

Peace 81 

He  Giveth  His  Beloved  Sleep 82 

The   River 83 

If  I  Had  Known 84 

Home    Ties 85 

Mother  Love 86 

Giving    87 

A  Christmas  Message 88 

New   Year 89 

WHEN  LIFE  IS  YOUNG 

Love's  Gift — D.  W.  B 93 

A  Little  Child— M.  Y.  B 95 

The  Voyage  of  Life 96 

Herbert    and    Anna 97 

One  Year  Old 99 

Mariana    100 

Baby  Ruth 101 

Bonnie-Eyes 102 

Our    Baby 1  03 

Dorothy — Nine     1  05 

A  Snow  Scene 106 

A  Book  Lover 108 

His  Favorite  Color 1  09 

A  Boy's  Questions 110 

Swinging    Ill 

Morning   Hymn 112 

Vacation    .113 


NEAR  TO 
NATURE'S  HEART 


NATURE'S  TEMPLE 

Old  Mother  Nature  once  in  reverent  mood 
Far  from  the  homes  and  busy  haunts  of  men 
A  wondrous  temple  reared.      Majestic,  grand, 
Yet  chaste,  severe  in  its  simplicity. 
In  silence  and  in  solitude  she  wrought, 
Her  chisel  wielded  by  the  hand  of  Time. 
He,  summoning  to  his  aid  the  trickling  rill 
That  merrily  danced  thru  the  forest  glade, 
Slowly,  but  surely,  the  great  work  began. 

Ages  passed  by,  year  swift  succeding  year, 
When,  lo !  at  length  the  stately  temple  stood, 
The  streamlet,  broadened,  rippling  at  its  base. 
No  pillared  shaft  the  o'erarching  roof  upheld; 
No  storied  windows  shaded  soft  the  light; 
Upon  the  walls  no  artist,  world  renowned, 
Had  famous  pictures  painted. 

Nature's  touch  alone 
Had  made  the  work  complete. 


THE  ADIRONDACK^ 

Roll  backward,  Time!     Yield  from  thy  silent  scroll, 
Engraven  with  the  secrets  of  the  past, 
The  mysteries  of  the  mountains  and  the  vales, 
The  wonders  of  the  lakes  that  here  and  there, 
Mirrors  of  beauty,  fill  the  soul  with  awe. 

Ages  long  gone  these  towering  cliffs  upreared 
Toward  Heaven  their  crests;  a  fierce,  terrific  force 
Rending  asunder  what  had  seemed  most  sure, 
Shook  earth  and  heaven,  and  then  the  mountains  came, 
Rugged  and  dark,  majestic  and  sublime. 
Methinks  no  restless  human  eye  beheld 
That  fierce  convulsion  that  at  once  transformed 
The  face  of  nature  with  its  awful  throes. 
That  thunder,  deep  resounding,  peal  on  peal, 
Unto  no  human  ear  gave  forth  its  voice, 
As  echoing  peak  to  peak  returned  the  sound, 
Deafening  at  first,  then  fainter,  and  more  faint, 
Till  silence  came,  silence  that  could  be  felt, 
And  the  Creator  said  that  all  was  good. 

Barren  and  rugged  were  those  mountains  then, 
Huge  rocky  barriers,  to  vast  heights  upreared, 
Whereon  the  elements  oft  fiercely  strove, 
Clothing  the  crags  at  times  in  glistening  white. 

Then  centuries  passed,  and  lo!  there  sprang  to  life 
The  germs  of  forest  trees,  that  small  at  first, 
Mighty  became  at  last,  until  the  birds 
Nested  among  the  branches,  spreading  wide; 
And  in  their  shelter,  in  the  dens  and  caves, 
The  wild  beasts  made  their  lairs,  and  forth  at  night 
In  search  of  prey  instinctively  they  stole, 


And,  courage  gaining  as  the  darkness  fell, 
Filled  all  the  forest  with  resounding  cries. 

Among  the  rocks  a  tiny,  tricking  rill 
Sought  timidly  a  quiet  spot  to  rest, 
But  meeting  other  rills,  pursued  its  way 
Onward  and  downward,  gaining  strength  and  size 
Until  grown  fearless,  conscious  of  its  power, 
From  rock  to  rock  it  leaped,  right  merrily, 
Turning  aside  at  times  to  fill  the  vales, 
Pausing  perchance,  one  moment  on  its  way, 
But  ever  seeking  a  still  mightier  leap. 

Along  its  banks  grew  lovely,  wildwood  gems, 
Lifting  their  graceful  heads,  refreshed  and  sweet, 
By  the  pure  draught  that  kindly  Nature  gave. 
The  forest  trees  drank  also  from  the  stream, 
And  lovingly  spread  wide  their  giant  arms, 
Shielding  it  safely  from  the  sun's  bright  rays. 
With  merry  chirp  to  the  soft,  woodland  shade 
The  songsters  came,    after  each   tiny  sip 
Raising  their  heads  toward  heaven  in  gratitude, 
Then  plunging  in  the  cool,  refreshing  stream, 
Sang  glad  thanksgivings  as  they  onward  flew. 

The  wild  beasts  too 

Of  its  cool  waters  drank,  day  after  day; 
The  gentle  deer  bent  low  its  pretty  head 
Nor  failed  to  see  the  picture  mirrored  there 
Of  grace  and  beauty  in  the  forest  glade. 
The  clumsy  bear,  the  stealthy  panther  came, 
The  fierce  wolf  from  the  streamlet  drank  his  fill. 

Time  still  pursued  his  flight.     Among  the  trees 
A  red-skinned  hunter,  in  their  forest  haunts 
The  wild  beasts  sought,  his  keen  eye  piercing  thru 


The  darkest  shadows,  arrow  swift  at  hand; 

A  sharp  twang  of  the  bowstring,  and  the  deer 

Sank  in  its  tracks,  gave  but  one  sorrowing  look, 

One  shudder  of  the  frame,  and  all  was  still. 

A  wigwam  built  the  hunter  by  yon  lake 

Of  poles  and  twigs,  and  covered  it  with  bark. 

Selecting  with  unerring  skill  a  tree 

Of  proper  size  and  strength,  with  ready  hand 

The  birch  canoe  he  fashioned,  graceful,  light, 

And  skimming  o'er  the  water  like  a  bird 

In  its  swift  flight  toward  the  blue  heaven  above. 

A  free  wild  life  the  sturdy  hunter  led 

Roaming  untrammeled  o'er  this  vast  domain; 

The  forest  depths  both  food  and  shelter  gave, 

And  from  the  open  book  of  Nature,  he, 

The  wild,  untutored  savage,  lessons  learned 

In  needful  lore  of  beast,  and  tree,  and  bird. 

The  mountains,  streams  and  lakes  still  meet  the  eye, 
The  deer  still  roam  the  mighty  forests  thru, 
The  Indian  names  yet  sweetly,  softly  cling 
To  lake  and  mountain,  thru  the  flight  of  years. 
Where  is  the  red  man,  who  those  earlier  days 
Claimed  for  his  own  this  noble  hunting-ground? 
But  to  the  question  yonder  towering  crag 
Sends  thundering  back  the  echoing  answer,  "Where?" 
The  grand  old  pine  trees,  sighing  in  the  breeze 
In  solemn  whispers  murmur,  "Where,  oh!  where!" 

Ascend  yon  white-faced  mountain,  hoary-crowned — 
From  base  to  crown  enrobed  in  living  green. 
Inhale  the  clear,  pure  air;  drink  deepest  draughts 
Of  the  life-giving  fluid,  the  vast  dome 
Of  heaven  above  you,  limitless  and  blue. 


Watch  the  white,  fleecy  clouds,  that  daintily 

Play  o'er  the  azure  deep,  with  light  and  shade 

Their  shadows  playing  on  the  mountain  side. 

Gaze  o'er  the  wondrous  scene  before  you  spread, 

A  panorama  grand  of  towering  peaks 

Piercing  the  clouds  of  heaven,  in  majesty 

In  the  primeval  wilderness  enthroned. 

And  lo!  reflecting  in  their  lucid  depths 

With  perfect  truth,  the  soft,  blue  sky  above, 

The  mountains,  verdure-crowned,  like  purest  gems 

In  limpid  beauty,  lie  the  crystal  lakes. 

Oh,  awe-inspiring  scene!     Surpassing  all 
That  fancy's  flights  have  painted;  grand,  sublime, 
Entrancing  in  its  silent  majesty. 
Beside  such  grandeur,  what  is  human  power, 
Or  might,  or  splendor?     But  a  fleeting  show, 
A  mirage  that  one  moment  greets  the  eye 
Then  quickly  vanishes,  nor  leaves  a  trace. 

These  everlasting  hills  in  giant  strength 
Attest  the  wisdom  and  Almighty  Power 
Of  the  great  Ruler  of  the  Universe, 
Who  planned  this  beauty  for  His  creature,  man. 

Unto  these  glorious  everlasting  hills, 
Lift  up  your  eyes,  lift  up  your  hearts  for  strength. 


SUNSET  AT  KESWICK,  ENGLAND 

Written  for  S.  S.  K.,  1901 

Thru  the  golden  gates  of  sunset 
A  flood  of  light  was  poured, 

And  we  watched  the  colors  changing 
In  harmonious  accord. 

White  cloud-caps  hid  the  summits 
Of  the  mountains,  dark  and  grim, 

Whose  rugged  feet  were  resting 
On  Derwentwater's  rim. 

The  vale  lay  green  and  smiling 
Ere  fell  the  evening  shades, 

But  night  was  stealing  softly 
Upon  the  glens  and  glades. 

And  the  sun  sank  slowly  downward 

Into  the  glowing  west, 
On  a  scene  of  wondrous  beauty, 

Of  quiet  peace  and  rest. 

Afar  the  dark  Helvellyn, 

In  purple  outline  showed, 
While  nearer  giant  Scafell 

In  the  soft  sunlight  glowed. 

Cloud  masses  gray  enveloped 
Bold  Skiddaw's  haughty  head, 

And  o'er  the  lesser  mountains 
Their  misty  curtain  spread. 


8 


When  the  sun's  bright  face  was  hidden 

In  a  sea  of  molten  gold 
The  glories  of  the  heavens 

'Gan  softly  to  unfold. 

The  cloud-caps  on  the  mountains 

Took  a  fair,   golden  glow, 
Mirrored  in  quiet  beauty  in 

The  placid  lake  below. 

And  a  sweet,   holy  radiance 

Lit  up  fair  Nature's  face; 
It  seemed  the  light  of  heaven 

Had  given  to  earth  such  grace. 

The  fleecy  cloudlets  floating 

In  the  still  upper  air, 
The  golden  tint  reflected 

And  hung  in  glory  there. 


But,  hush!  the  color  deepens, 
From  gold  to  faintest  rose, 

Then  a  rich,  roseate  splendor 
Mountains  and  vales  disclose. 

And  now  the  purple  shadows 
Creep  slowly,  gently,  down, 

Softening  the  rugged  outlines 
Of  mountains,  bare  and  brown. 


And  the  vale  lies  sweetly  sleeping 
In  beauty  green  and  fair, 

While  still  the  glorious  radiance 
Glows  in  the  upper  air. 

Then  fading,  gently  fading, 
As  onward  steals  the  night, 

The  glory  of  the  vision 

Has  vanished  from  our  sight. 

And  now  the  stars  in  beauty 
Peep  brightly,   one  by  one, 

Gemming  the  dome  of  heaven 
When  the  sun's  light  is  gone. 

The  wondrous  heavenly  splendor 

Into  our  spirits  stole, 
And  filled  with  awe,  and  rapture, 

And  gratitude  each  soul. 

If  thus  the  sunset's  glory 

Gives  to  the  earth  such  grace, 

Oh,  what  will  be  the  grandeur 
When  lighted  by  His  face! 

When  mountain,  lake  and  valley, 
As  a  scroll  have  rolled  away, 

And  o'er  us  falls  the  splendor 
Of  God's  eternal  day. 


10 


DREAMING 

At  Cape  May 

Alone  the  restless  deep  beside, 
The  mighty  ocean,  vast  and  wide, 
I  watch  the  ever-rolling  tide. 

Far  as  the  roving  eye  can  reach, 
The  waves  upon  the  pebbly  beach 
Are  playing  leap-frog,  each  with  each. 

They  seem  unto  the  dazzled  sight 

To  glisten  as  a  diamond  bright, 

With  countless  points  of  glowing  light, 

And  then,  with  a  low,  murmuring  roar, 
Break  in  white  foam  upon  the  shore, 
With  beauty  all  unseen  before. 

And  as  thus  dreamily  I  lie, 

The  waters  seem  to  mount  on  high 

Until  the  ocean  meets  the  sky. 

While  far  off  from  these  banks  of  sedge, 
Upon  the  horizon's  farthest  edge, 
A  form  is  entering  like  a  wedge. 

A  vessel  borne  upon  the  tide 
F'rom  lands  beyond  the  ocean  wide, 
Sailing  along  in  stately  pride. 

O  vessel  proud,  these  waves  that  play 
So  peacefully  this  calm  Spring  day, 
Are  mighty  giants  held  at  bay. 


II 


When  tempests  burst  with  fearful  power, 
And  mountain  billows  high  uptower, 
What  can  withstand  that  awful  hour? 

Ah!  then  the  waves  with  thunderous  roar, 
With  force  resistless  onward  pour, 
And  break  in  grandeur  on  the  shore. 


0  restless  sea!     Years  speed  away. 
New  nations  rise,   their  powers  decay; 
Time's  changes  thou  alone  canst  stay. 

1  gaze  upon  each  snowy  crest, 
And,  lo!  there  steals  into  my  breast 
A  sense  of  comfort,  peace  and  rest. 

A  soothing  calm  creeps  over  me, 
I  breathe  the  pure  air  dreamily, 
Fragrant  with  odors  of  the  sea. 


THE  MOON 

The  moon  shone  out  above  the  trees, 
"Twas  but  a  dainty  silver  bark. 

It  thrilled  my  heart  with  joy  and  love 
As  its  soft  rays  dispelled  the  dark. 


12 


AN  AUTUMN  RIDE 

Afar  the  gloom  of  the  city, 

By  the  shining  river  road, 
We  sped  toward  the  beautiful  country, 

When  autumnal  splendor  glowed. 

Before  us  up  hill  and  thru  valley, 
Like  a  scroll  the  way  unrolled, 

Past  orchards  whose  wide-spreading  branches 
Bore  fruitage,  crimson  and  gold. 

Oh,  the  earth  aglow  was  with  beauty 

That  wonderful   afternoon, 
The  blue  sky,  crisp  air,  and  bright  sunshine, 

With  the  season  seemed  in  tune. 

And  sickness  and  pain  were  forgotten, 

Forgot  were  sorrow  and  care, 
As  we  drank  in  the  wine  of  Autumn, 

The  pure,    ozone-laden  air. 

Dame  Nature  had  bidden  her  children 
Don  their  gayest  gowns  that  day, 

And  the  various  tints  and  colors 
Made  a  marvelous  display. 

The  sumacs  by  roadside  and  meadow 
Their  scarlet  banners  outflung; 

Choice  clusters  of  pale  purple  asters 
Nestled  the  sumacs  among. 


13 


Great  oak  trees  wore  gorgeous  raiment 
Of  richest  crimson  and  brown; 

While  each  maple  shone  resplendent 
In  a  shimmering  golden  gown. 

Soft  brown  leaves  on  low,  graceful  beeches 
Gave  tone  to  a  brilliant  scene; 

While  the  tender  wheat  blades  upspringing, 
Added  a  contrast  in  green. 

Tall  bushes  that  hedged  in  the  roadway 
Wore  each  a  becoming  shade; 

Ablaze  were  the  thickets  and  woodlands 
On  hillside,  in  glen  and  glade. 

But,  lo!  when  we  came  to  the  river, 

Broad  yet  with  peaceful  flow, 
Our  joy-cups  were  full  to  o'erflowing, 

For  its  bosom  was  aglow 

With  the  beautiful  shades  and  colors 

That  Nature  in  lavish  way 
Had  placed  by  its  burnished  mirror, 

Which  lost  not  a  single  spray. 

We  loitered  along  in  the  shadow, 

On  the  river  sunlight  shone; 
And  the  day  and  night  seemed  mingling, 

Blending  gently  into  one. 


14 


Then  turning  at  last  with  reluctance, 

By  a  winding,  woodland  way 
O'er  a  delicate  fairy  fretwork 

We  lingered  that  lovely  day. 

And  the  shades  of  evening  stole  softly 

As  the  sun  sank  in  the  west, 
Outspreading  o'er  earth  a  broad  mantle 

Of  quiet,  of  peace,  and  rest. 

Now  the  moon  in  the  eastern  horizon 

In  regal  splendor  arose; 
Her  soft  light  diffused  o'er  the  landscape 

An  air  of  serene  repose. 

Meadow,  hillside,  woodland  and  cornfield 
Succumbed  to  that  magic  spell, 

Touched  into  exquisite  beauty  where 
Her  chastened  radiance  fell. 

Then  homeward  we  sped  in  the  moonlight, 

Athrill  with  her  mystic  charm, 
Which  softened,  and  clothed  in  silvery  sheen 

Each  lonely  hillside  and  farm. 

And  our  hearts  with  gladness  o'erb rimming, 
Our  faith  and  courage  renewed, 

With  truth  we  could  join  Nature's  anthem 
Proclaiming  that  God  is  good. 


15 


ROBIN  HILL 

After  a  Sleet  Storm,  18% 

An   enchanted  spot 

I  behold  thee  still 
In  thy  snowy  mantle, 

O  Robin  Hill! 
A  beautiful  robe 

of  shimmering  white, 
That  dazzles  the  eye 

in  the  sunbeams  bright; 
For  Nature  has  spread 

her  jewels  around, 
With  a  lavish  hand 

o'er  the  frozen  ground. 

As  the  sparkling  gems 

of  Golconda's  mine, 
Those  jewels  flash 

in  the  chill  sunshine; 
More  dainty  by  far 

are  Nature's  pure  gems 
Than  glow  in  the  fairest 

of  diadems; 
Bright  clusters  of  pearls 

are  hung  on  the  trees, 
And  first-water  diamonds 

glance  in  the  breeze. 


16 


'Tis  surely  enchantment. 

What  magical  wand 
Such  crystal  splendor  and 

beauty  has  planned? 
What  deftest  of  fingers 

throughout  the  cold  night 
This  picture  has  fashioned 

to  dazzle  the  sight? 
We  must  almost  admit, 

in  spite  of  ourselves, 
'Tis  the  magical  work 

of  fairies  and  elves. 

Or  think  you  this  dazzling 

beauty  has  grown 
Where  the  soft  light  of 

Aladdin's  lamp  shone? 
If  we  once  rub  our  eyes 

will  it  flee  fast  away 
Before  the  clear  light  of 

the  oncoming  day? 
No,  Nature  has  called 

Jack  Frost  to  her  aid, 
To  guard  her  rich  treasures, 

widely  displayed. 

Jack  Frost  is  an  artist. 

No  sound  do  you  hear 
Of  his  elfin  footsteps 

to  tell  he  is  near. 
For  silent  and  swift  as 

the  passage  of  thought 


17 


In  darkness  and  daylight 

his  wonders  are  wrought. 
His  work  you  may  see 

but  the  workman  is  sly, 
Nor  may  you  detect  him 

although  you  stand  by. 

Not  pausing  a  moment 

he'll  nip  at  your  nose, 
Or  twitch  at  your  fingers 

as  gaily  he  goes; 
But  his  pearls  he  keeps  stringing — 

the  busy  old  elf — 
And  you  long  for  a  glimpse 

of  the  artist  himself. 
But  you'll  mind  not  his  teasing; 

enraptured  will  stand, 
And  dream  that  the  earth 

has  become  fairyland. 

Enjoy  the  fair  picture, 

not  long  will  it  last, 
Tomorrow  this  beauty  may 

be  of  the  past; 
And  Nature  to  you  other 

scenes  may  unfold, 
That  will  make  you  forget 

Jack  Frost  and  the  cold. 
But  the   fairyland   vision 

will  cling  to  me  still, 
That   greeted   my   coming 

to  fair  Robin  Hill. 


18 


THE  PROSTRATE  FOREST  GIANT 

In  the  depths  of  the  forest,  the  whispering  forest, 
In  long  agone  ages  I  first  saw  the  light; 

From  out  the  brown  mold  peering  timidly  upward, 
My  eyes  opened  wide  on  a  wonderful  sight. 

High  over  my  head  the  mountains  were  towering, 
And  barren  and  grim  was  each  huge  rocky  crest; 

Around  me  were  giants  with  wide-spreading  branches, 
And  sweet  woodland  flow' rets,  and  these  I  loved  best. 

There  were  trickling  rills  from  which  I  drank  deeply, 
As  I  nodded  my  head  when  the  soft  breezes  blew; 

In  the  days  and  the  nights  swift  succeeding  each  other, 
More  sturdy  and  merry,  less  timid  I  grew. 

Till,  at  length,  tall  and  stately,  my  head  proudly  lifted, 
I  gazed,  unobstructed,  up  to  the  blue  sky. 

Days  sped  into  years,  the  years  lengthened  to  ages, 
And  I  scarce  marked  the  time  that  went  hurrying  by. 

Each  Springtime  I  spread  out  in  glory  and  splendor 
My  millions  of  leaves  on  the  sweet  balmy  air, 

And  thru  the  long  days  of  the  swift-speeding  summer 
My  life  was  not  marred  by  a  shadow  of  care. 

But,  alas!  in  the  Autumn  my  precious  green  leaflets 
Were  nipped  by  the  wind  that  went  hurrying  by, 

And  sadly  I  saw  them  turn  pale  and  then  leave  me; 
Oh,  naught  could  I  do  thru  the  Winter  but  sigh. 


19 


Those  days  had  their  trials  but  also  their  pleasures, 
And  now,  looking  back,  I  see  naught  of  the  pain, 

But  fondly  I  peer  in  the  far-fading  distance, 
And  long  for  the  old  life  of  freedom  again. 

One  morning  the  clouds  had  enveloped  the  mountains, 
No  more  their  huge  peaks  stood  out  boldly  in  view, 

Save  where  for  one  moment,  the  thunder  loud  rolling, 
The  lightning  had  riven  the  cloud-mass  in  two. 

Oh,    grand    was    the    sight,    for    the    clouds,    and    the 
mountains, 

Grew  dark  in  their  anger,  and  fierce  for  the  fray; 
And  loud  roared  the  wind  as  still  urging  them  onward; 

The  elements  raging  like  giants  at  play. 

V/ith  the  force  of  a  monster  long  lying  imprisoned, 
And  wild  in  his  glee  that  his  thraldom  is  past, 

The  mighty  Storm  Spirit  sent  down  to  the  valley 
With  the  roar  of  a  torrent,  a  terrible  blast. 

Oh,  naught  could  withstand  the  gale  that  o'erwhelmed  us, 
The  great  forest  giants,  that  ages  had  known, 

Waving  proudly  their  branches  in  sunshine  and  shadow, 
Before  the  fierce  stroke  of  the  tempest  fell  prone. 

Here  have  we  been  lying,  methinks  it  were  ages, 
The  seasons  still  come,  and  the  seasons  still  go; 

In  Springtime  and  Summer,  life  blossoms  around  us, 
In  Winter  we  often  lie  buried  in  snow. 


20 


Yet  fierce  are  the  storms  that  envelop  the  mountains, 
But  little  we  heed  in  our  soft,  lowly  bed; 

Around  us  and  o'er  us  the  mosses  are  growing, 

And  trees  are  now  waving  their  branches  o'erhead. 

These  trees  are  but  saplings,  not  yet  tall  and  stately, 
And  strength  from  our  weakness  they  gain  day  by 
day; 

But  ere  they  attain  to  our  lofty  aspirings, 

Our  forms  will  have  yielded  to  death  and  decay. 

Yes,  our  forms  will  decay,  but  around  us  and  o'er  us, 
Other  forms  will  spring  up  as  we  sink  to  our  rest; 

In  them  we  shall  live  in  grandeur  and  beauty, 

And  in  their  young  lives  our  lost  lives  will  be  blest. 


21 


A  SUMMER  SCHOOL 

Tall  trees  thru  whose  branches  o'erarching 

Filters  a  fretwork  of  gold; 
Dark  vistas,  their  cool  depths  alluring, 

To  forest  treasures  untold. 

Afar  stretch  the  "hills  everlasting," 

Enrobed  in  emerald  green, 
With  cloud  shadows  playing  above  them, 

An  ever-changing  scene. 

There's  a  constant  murmur  of  water, 
Charming  the  tired  nerves  to   rest; 

A  blissful,  care-free  abandon, 
Leaning  on  Nature's  breast; 

A  merry  chirp  in  the  forest, 

Of  the  busy,  happy  birds, 
Their  small  hearts  with  joy  overflowing, 

That  is  quite  too  deep  for  words; 

A  steady  climb  up  the  mountain, 

And   a  panorama  grand 
As  each  higher  step  is  surmounted 

Unfolding  on  every  hand; 

A  sense  of  exhilaration, 

Of  victory  bravely  won, 
And  a  deep  breath  of  satisfaction 

When  the  journey  at  last  is  done. 


22 


For    the    mountains    are    his    who    beholds 
them 

With  reverent,  awestruck  gaze; 
And  whose  heart  to  their  mighty  Creator 

Is  attuned  to  a  hymn  of  praise. 

Here  in  the  broad  lap  of  Nature, 

Her  beauties  on  every  hand, 
Where  the  tall,   dark  mountains  around  us 

Like  sentinels  boldly  stand; 

Where  stream,  and  mountain,  and  forest, 
Know  naught  but  Nature's  rule, 

What  spot  could  be  better  selected 
For  an  ideal  Summer  school? 


23 


A  STUDY  IN  GREEN 

Entranced,  from  my  study  window, 

I  gaze  on  a  beautiful  scene, 
Dame   Nature   invites   an   inspection 

Of  her  color  study  in  green. 

The  delicate  tint  of  the  maples 
Has  the  daintiest  hint  of  gold, 

And  a  rosy  tint  have  the  oak  leaves 
That  are  scarcely  three  days  old. 

The  sombre  hue  of  the  pine  trees 

Is  with  waxen  tapers  alight, 
While  the  apple  trees  in  the  orchard 

Have   trimmings   of  pink   and   white. 

There's  the  silvery  green  of  the  birches, 
And  in  contrast,  peeping  thru 

The  leafy  screen  that  surrounds  me 
A  bit  of  the  sky's  own  blue. 

Now  that  her  Spring  cleaning  is  over, 
The  earth  a  new  carpet  has  spread, 

"Tis  cool  and  refreshing  in  color, 
Soft  and  velvet-like  to   the  tread. 

Of  emerald  green  is  this  carpet, 

Embroidered  with  figures  of  gold, 

Afar  over  meadows  and  hillsides 
Its  beauteous  length  is  unrolled. 

Well  skilled  in  art  is  Earth  Mother, 
Then  is   everywhere  harmony  seen, 

And  the  color  that  soothes  and  refreshes 
In  the  lovely  Springtime  is  green. 

24 


BY  THE  SEA 

At  Pacific  Grove,  California 

By  the  sea,  the  sea, 

There  I  love  to  be, 
By  the  restless,   ever-surging  sea. 

The  waves  on  the  shore, 

With  a  rush  and  roar, 
Pace  forward  and  backward  evermore. 

Delighted   I   gaze 

When  the  sun's  bright  rays 
Pierce  thru  and  scatter  the  misty  haze, 

And  each  wavelet's  crest 

Sinks  slowly  to  rest, 
Bearing  a  star  on  its  heaving  breast. 

In  a  glass-bottomed  boat 

Oft   gently   I    float, 
And  in  wonder  gaze  into  depths  remote. 

From  those  depths  profound 

There  comes  not  a  sound, 
But  bright-hued  fishes  dart  swift  around. 

Like  great  forest-trees 

Tossed  about  by  the  breeze, 
The  giant  kelp  floats  deep  in  the  seas. 

See  that  beautiful   thing 

Without  fin  or  wing, 
Close  to  the  rock-bed  of  ocean  cling. 


25 


At  my  feet  in  a  pool, 

With  depths  clear  and  cool, 
The  lively  sea-urchins  are  going  to  school. 

They  cling  to  the  rocks, 

And  fear  not  the  shocks 

Of    old    Father    Ocean    when    fiercely    he 
knocks. 

There  the  wild  loons  fly 

'Gainst  the  sunlit  sky; 
On  steady  wings  they  go  hurrying  by; 

Or  softly  they   rest 

On   the  ocean's  breast, 
Safe  and  secure  as  on  downy  nest. 

As  idly  I  rest 

Near   Pacific's  broad  breast, 
My  thoughts  fly  afar  to  the  East  from  the 

West. 

For  in  thought  I  can  climb 
In  a  moment  of  time 

O'er   ocean,   and   river,    and   mountain   sub 
lime. 

He  who  watches  the  tide 

Of  the  great  ocean  wide, 
Has  promised  His  children  forever  to  guide, 

And   it  matters   not  where 

We  are,  here  or  there, 
The   Father   above   has  us  all   in   His   care. 

Thus  to  me  speaks  the  sea, 
Ever   restless  and   free, 
As  I  gaze  o'er  its  waters  trustfully. 

26 


LAKE  ST.  MARY 

O  beautiful  Lake  St.  Mary, 

In  the  sunshine  dimples  and  smiles, 
While  the  mountains  frown  above  her 

In  huge,   majestic  piles. 

When  storm-clouds  about  them  gather 
She  tumbles  and  tosses  in  glee, 

Her  waves  wearing  snowy  whitecaps, 
A  charming  sight  to  see. 

But  when  evening  shades  fall  softly 
As  the  sun  sinks  down  to  his  rest, 

Then  beautiful  Lake  St.   Mary 
Is  surely  at  her  best. 

For  in  her  blue  depths  are  pictured 
Mountains,   forests  and  clouds  above; 

And  she  bears  a  precious  message, 
A  message  of  peace  and  love. 


27 


THE  WOODLAND  PATH 

'Tis  but  a  simple  woodland  path — 

Green  boughs  bend  gracefully  above  it — 
Passing  across  a  cool  ravine, 
Which  lies  the  shaded  banks  between, 
And  Nature's  darlings  truly  love  it. 

White  elder  blooms  shine  overhead, 

There  bumble-bees  their  toll  are  taking; 
Insects  in  tiny  clusters  come, 
The  air  resounds  with  vibrant  hum, 

And  butterflies  their  thirst  are  slaking. 

But,  best  of  all,  in  lowly  guise, 

Amid  the  dainty  ferns  and  grasses, 
In  a  cool,  bright,  sequestered  spot 
There  blooms  the  blue  forget-me-not 
In  cheerful,   cheering,   clustered  masses. 

Dear,  dainty  flowers!     Bloom  brightly  still, 

Around  you  loving  mem'ries  hover; 
For  others  may  the  message  ring, 
You  in  your  innocence  now  bring 
To  me — a  humble  nature  lover. 


28 


SPRING 

Spring,  smiling  Spring,  throughout  our  favored  land 
With  buoyant  footsteps  once  again  appears, 
And  promise  of  new  life;  a  veiling  soft 
Of  living  green  will  cover  soon  the  earth. 
The  bare,  bleak  boughs  that  thru  the  winter's  cold 
Have    spread    toward    heaven    their   naked,    shivering 

arms, 

Feel  once  again  the  thrill  of  coming  Spring. 
Beneath  the  rough,  harsh  bark,  the  coursing  tide 
Of  life-blood  carries  joy  to  every  twig, 
And  makes  it  tingle  to  its  very  tip. 
The  dark,  chill  mold  where  deep  the  ice  and  snow 
For  months  have  lain,  now  feels  the  season's  stir, 
For  plants,  long  dormant,  struggle  to  be  free 
To  drink  the  air  and  sunshine.      Dainty  gems 
That  earliest  greet  the  eye  in  sheltered  spots, 
Are  eager  to  unfold  their  petals  fair, 
And  clothe  the  earth  with  beauty. 
At  the  feet  of  forest  giants,  modestly 
The  violet  soon  will  ope  its  timid  eye, 
And  cheer  the  wayworn  traveler. 
The  frail  anemone  will,  to  and  fro, 

Wave  with  each  passing  breeze;  that  woodland  flower, 
Claytonia,  the  beauty  of  the  Spring, 
With  winning  smile  will  tempt  with  dainty  freshness. 
Where  sheltered  hillsides  by  the  southwind  kissed 
Show  laurel  bushes,  green  in  winter's  snow, 
Beneath  the  withered  leaves,  sweetest  of  flowers, 
Arbutus,  soon  will  lift  its  pink-tipped  blooms, 
And  fill  the  air  with  fragrance. 

29 


From  the  far  sunny  South,  where  Summer  reigns 
Throughout  the  rolling  year,  the  songsters  come 
To  build,  and  brood,  and  sing,  day  after  day, 
And  thrill  our  human  hearts  with  love  and  joy. 
The  bluebird  near  the  homes  and  haunts  of  men 
Will  gather  twigs,  and  build  his  cozy  nest. 
The  robin,  bold,  proud  of  his  crimson  vest, 
His  note  of  cheerful  gratitude  will  raise 
The  while  he  and  his  mate  with  busy  wings 
Are  flitting  here  and  there,  making  a  home. 
The  oriole,  too,  on  happy,  glancing  wings 
With  breast  of  flame,  is  darting  to  and  fro, 
Bearing  of  twigs  and  fibres  goodly  store, 
To  build  on  high  his  graceful  hanging  nest, 
Whistling  the  while  a  note  of  purest  joy. 
All  Nature  welcomes  the  return  of  Spring, 


30 


AUTUMN 

Lovely  is  the  earth  in  Springtime, 
When  the  trees  their  leaves  unfold, 

And  the  flowers  peep  out  most  shyly 
From  their  shelter,  dark  and  cold. 

When  the  birds,  returning  homeward, 

Flit  about  on  happy  wing, 
And  while  building  in  the  treetops 

Cheerily  and  gaily  sing. 

When  the  brooks  from  icy  trammels 
Wander  onward,    fresh   and   free, 

Sparkling,   murmuring  in  their  journey 
To  the  ever-grasping  sea. 

And  the  earth,  grown  tired  of  sleeping, 

Glad  the  time  of  rest  is  o'er, 
Sendeth  forth  the  richest  emerald, 

Clothes   the  barren  hills   once   more. 

Lovely   is   the    earth   in   summer, 

With  its  quiet,  restful  calm, 
When  the  soft  and  cooling  zephyr 

Gently  sootheth  with  its  balm. 

When  the  leaves  and  all  the  grass-blades 

Don  a  deeper  shade  of  green, 
And  where  Spring  brought  buds  and  blos 
soms, 

Now  the  growing  fruit  is  seen. 


31 


And  the  birds,   their  nests  all  builded, 
Cease  to  sing  their  merry  song, 

Guard  with  jealous  care  the  nestlings, 
Working  for  them  all  day  long. 

Yes,  in  Spring  the  earth  is  lovely; 

Fair  in  Summer's  golden  prime; 
But  the  best,  most  gracious  season 

Is  the  glorious  Autumn  time. 

Then  earth  yields  her  choicest  treasures, 
And  the  garners  show  a  store 

Of  the  richest,  golden  fruitage 
When  the  harvest  time  is  o'er. 

In  each  hollow  tree  lie  hidden 
Stores  of  nuts  for  winter  fare, 

Showing  how  our  Father  taketh 
Every  creature  'neath  His  care. 

In  our  hearts  a  glad  thanksgiving 
Should    arise   to    God   above, 

That  so  graciously  He  watcheth 
Over  us  with  wisest  love. 

Life  is  like  the  changing  seasons, 
Childhood  is  its  budding  spring; 

Youth  is  summer,   full  of  promise; 
Manhood  autumn  fruit  doth  bring. 


32 


If  the  seed  sown  in  the  Springtime 
Was  of  kindly,  gracious  deeds, 

Tended  carefully  and  watered, 

Autumn's  fruit  will  not  be  weeds. 

And  though  Winter  speedeth  onward, 
Feeble  is  the  step  and  slow, 

And  a  sheen  of  silvery  whiteness 
Crowns  the  head  that  boweth  low; 

He  who  faithfully  hath  striven 
All  life  thru  to  do  his  best, 

Will  not  fear  the  latest  summons 
That  shall  gather  him  to  rest. 


33 


AUTUMN  LEAVES 

The  leaves  upon  the  trees  one  day 

Seemed  whispering  together; 
Chatting,  perchance,  about  the  bright 

And  sunny  Autumn  weather. 

Each  leaf  was  whispering  gleefully 

And  gaily  to  his  brother, 
'Twas  hard  to  tell  which  'twas  that  spoke, 

One  looked  so  like  another. 

But  thru  the  day  they  never  stopped 
Their  whispering  and  swinging, 

And  here  and  there  one  from  the  trees 
Its  way  to  earth  was  winging. 

The  maple  to  the  chestnut  tree, 

The  oak  unto  its  neighbor, 
Stood  idly  nodding  in  the  breeze, 

Without  a  thought  of  labor. 

And  yet  methought  each  one  that  spoke, 
Held  up  its  head  quite  proudly, 

Seeking  its  charms  to  best  display, 
And  rustling  often  loudly. 

"Just  see  my  lovely  glossy  suit," 
The  oak  seemed  to  be  saying, 

And  'mong  the  leaves  the  acorns  all 
At  hide-and-seek  were  playing. 


34 


The  chestnut  rustled  all  the  time, 
But  spoke  no  word  out  plainly, 

Its  store  of  green  and  prickly  burrs 
It  strove  to  hide  quite  vainly. 

A  willow  drooping  by  the  brook 
Seemed  very  sad  and  lonely, 

As  leaf  by  leaf  came  floating  down, 
And  it  had  leaflets  only. 

The  walnut  stood  with  scarce  a  leaf 
Its  green-hulled  nuts  to  cover, 

An  air  of  dreary  loneliness 
About  it  seemed  to  hover. 

And  every  moment  I  could  hear 
The  pine-tree's  doleful  sighing, 

It  seemed  with  grief  to  be  o'erwhelmed, 
Its  needles  down  were  flying. 

The  fir  spoke  not  a  single  word, 
But  stood  off  from  the  others; 

It  quite  ignored  on  every  side 
The  whispering  of  its  brothers. 

The  day  of  sunshine  passed  away, 
The  chill  of  night  descended, 

The  moon  came  out  in  beauty  bright, 
A  train  of  stars  attended. 


35 


Jack  Frost  rejoiced  to  feel  the  cold, 

It  made  him  gay  and  merry, 
He  stepped   among  the  flowers  and  trees 

As  lightly  as  a  fairy. 

The  leaves  all  shivered  when  he  came, 
And  touched  them  with  his  fingers, 

Where'er  his  chilling  breath  is  felt, 
A  shade  of  sadness  lingers. 

Night  after  night  passed  thus  and  then 
When  forth  the  sun  came  peeping, 

He  saw  the  leaves  had   fluttered   down 
While  every  one  was  sleeping. 


36 


WINTER 

(Written  for  a  charitable  organization  of  little  girls) 

Though  Winter  stern  with  icy  hand 
Now  reigns  secure  o'er  all  the  land, 
And  while  the  chilling  north  winds  blow 
Spreads  wide  the  mantle  of  the  snow, 
He  cannot  with  his  piercing  dart 
Make  chill  the  warm  and  loving  heart. 

When  in  the  air  the  snow-flakes  swarm, 
A  token  of  the  coming  storm, 
The  traveler  with  his  head  bowed  low, 
To  keep  from  eyes  and  ears  the  snow, 
Goes  hurrying  homeward  ere  the  night 
Shall  hide  all  landmarks  from  the  sight. 

The  merry  child  with  gleeful  shout 
Enjoys  the  whitening  scene  without, 
And  when  the  morning's  early  ray 
Shall  usher  in  another  day, 
He'll  welcome  give  the  wintry  storm, 
For  sledding  has  a  ceaseless  charm. 

And  'neath  the  drifts  so  pure  and  white, 
All  safely  hidden  from  the  sight, 
In  beds  of  earth  kept  snug  and  warm, 
So  that  Jack  Frost  can  do  no  harm, 
The  plants  and  seeds  all  resting  lie, 
And  waiting  till  the  Spring  draws  nigh. 


37 


But  all  alike  do  not  rejoice, 

And  welcome  Winter  with  one  voice. 

To  some  he  sorrow  brings,  and  pain, 

Throughout  his  chilly,  icy  reign, 

For  those  who  know  but  want  and  care 

Are  all  about  us  everywhere. 

The  poor  our  tender  thought  should  claim, 
And  in  that  blessed  Savior's  name 
Who  came  to  save  from  want  and  sin, 
Each  one  may  strive  to  follow  Him. 
Trying  though  in  a  humble  way 
To  give  some  pleasure  every  day. 

For  though  but  little  each  may  show, 
From  little  deeds  do  mighty  grow. 
The  oak  that  rears  its  lofty  head 
Was  once  an  acorn  in  its  bed. 
Small  charities  do  not  deride, 
Of  drops  is  made  the  ocean  wide. 


38 


THE  RHYME  OF  THE  BLIZZARD 

A  merry  little  snowflake 

Came  slowly  fluttering  down; 
He  floated  hither,   thither, 

While  he  surveyed  the  town. 
"It  is  a  mighty  city," 

He  said,    "and  no  mistake, 
And  I  am  but  a  tiny, 

A  very  tiny  flake." 

He  sagely  shook  his  little  head 

As  here  and  there  he  flew; 
"To  me  this  is  a  curious  sight, 

And  very  strange  and  new. 
It  doesn't  seem  so  very  clean," 

At  length  he  wisely  said, 
"I  cannot  find  a  single  spot 

Fit  for  my  snowy  head." 

And  then  he  fluttered  onward 

Upon  the  blustering  wind, 
Until  he'd  left  the  city, 

Its  noise  and  dust  behind; 
And  far  out  in  the  country, 

Upon  a  mossy  bank, 
Weary  and  worn  with  traveling 

This  little  snowflake  sank. 


39 


But   other  little  snowflakes 
Came  fluttering  from  the  sky; 

"We  can  do  wondrous  things,"  they  said, 
'Tis  true,  if  we  but  try." 

And  without  more  ado  at  once 
They  settled  on  the  town; 

Men  laughed  to  see  the  tiny  things 
So  boldly  flying  down. 

They  said,   "Who  cares  for  snowflakes? 

We'll  soon  drive  them  away." 
But,  no;  those  airy  messengers 

Had  come,  and  meant  to  stay. 
They  came  by  tens,   and  thousands, 

They  came,   a  mighty  swarm, 
And  ere  the  night  had  settled, 

They  took  the  town  by  storm. 

And  when  the  City  Fathers, 

In   righteous  wrath   arose, 
And  girded  on  their  armor 

To  battle  with  their  foes, 
Those  saucy  little  snowflakes 

Took  liberties,  they  say, 
Such  as  no  one  had  dreamed  of 

Before   that  wintry   day. 


40 


They  fluttered  in  their  faces 

In  overflow  of  glee; 
They  danced  and  whirled  about  them 

In  wildest  ecstasy. 
They  tangled  in  deep  snowdrifts 

Their  unsuspecting  feet; 
They  blocked  the  way  of  traffic 

On  each  and  every  street. 

And  so  each  City  Father 

Went  slowly  to  his  home; 
(There  heat  and  light  were  plenty, 

And  hunger  did  not  come), 
And  without  sound  of  battle 

They  yielded  up  the  fight. 
Our  city  slept  till  morning, 

In  silence,  deep  and  white. 

Then  those  brave  little  snowflakes, 

Their  foemen  laid  to  rest, 
Put  softly  off  their  armor 

By  wandering  doubt  oppressed. 
They  telegraphed  to  Cloudland, 

"Oh,   take  us  back  again  1" 
But,  lo !  there  came  for  answer 

A  mighty  storm  of  rain. 

And  those  poor  little  snowflakes, 

O'erwhelmed  with  doubts  and  fears, 

With  grief  and  disappointment, 
Dissolved  away  in  tears. 


41 


THE  LEAFLET 

Only  a  budding  leaflet, 

Hidden  away  in  a  seed, 
Giving  no  promise  of  beauty 

In  flower  or  even  in  weed. 
But  though  the  leaflet  is  tiny, 

Hidden  the  seed-coats  within, 
Its  little  heart  is  aspiring, 

And  "he  who  worketh  will  win." 

Only  a  pale  green  leaflet, 

Spreading  itself  in  the  sun, 
Drinking  in  air  and  brightness, 

Its  lifework  fairly  begun. 
To  stand  against  chilling  breezes, 

It  needs  must  be  very  brave, 
But   then   should   it    "nothing  venture," 

It  surely  will   "nothing  have." 

Only  a  single  leaflet, 

Plucked  from  the  topmost  spray 
Of  the  promise-laden  branches 

That  cluster  above  the  way. 
But  it  is  one  of  many 

That  waved  most  gracefully, 
And  drank  in  strength  and  beauty 

For  the  tall  and  sturdy  tree. 


42 


Only  a  withered  leaflet, 

Drooping  and  weary  and  brown, 
That  rustled  among  the  branches, 

Then  slowly  it  fluttered  down. 
Sad  that  its  day's  work  is  ended, 

Sorrowing  most  that  the  bough, 
Late  clothed  in  the  richest  greenness, 

Seems  barren  and  lifeless  now. 

Only  a  tired,  brown  leaflet, 

Lying  there,  sad  and  chilled, 
Knowing  not  in  its  sorrow 

Its  lifework  has  been  fulfilled. 
Dreaming  not  that  it  shelters 

The  seeds  that  are  hidden  below, 
And  that  all  mighty  oak  trees 

Must  from  little  acorns  grow. 


43 


JUNE 

June,  entrancing, 
Comes  a-glancing, 
Sunbeams   glinting 

'Mong  green  leaves, 
Form  rare  fretwork, 
Fairy  network, 
Such  choice  tap'stry 

Nature   weaves. 

Dark,  cool  shadows 
Fringe  green  meadows, 
Sheltering  closely 

Tempting  nooks. 
Bright  rays  twinkling, 
Catch  the  crinkling 
Of  the  hurried 

Babbling  brooks. 

Birds  soft  twittering, 
Dewdrops  glittering, 
Leaves  a-rustling 

All  in  tune. 
Nature,  smiling, 
Sweet,   beguiling, 
Whispers  softly, 

"June,  'tis  June!" 


44 


AVALON 

Catalina 

The  summer  sunbeams  gently  smile 
Upon   fair  Catalina's  isle, 

Gild  day  by  day,  and  on  and  on, 

The  lovely  bay  of  Avalon. 

Not  with  a  brilliant,  garish  light, 

That  dazzles  oft  the  weary  sight, 

They  softly,  sweetly,  gently  fall 
Upon  that  rugged  mountain  wall, 

And  with  the  sea  and  crystal  air 

Combine  to  make  a  picture  fair, 

Fair  as  a  gem  of  priceless  worth, 
Whose  beauty  scarcely  seems  of  earth; 

While  the  blue  sky  bends  lovingly 
To  meet  afar  the  deep  blue  sea, 

Whose  sparkling  waves  roll  gently  on 
In   the  calm  bay  of  Avalon. 

They  bring  into  the  anxious  breast 
A  soothing  sense  of  peace  and  rest, 
Till  far  off  all  life's  trials  seem 
And   every   day  a  blissful   dream. 


45 


MARBLEHEAD 

A   breeze   from   the   mighty    ocean, 

A  dash  of  salty  spray, 
For  far  o'er  the  waste  of  waters 
The  giant  waves  are  at  play; 

A  wonderful   game   of  leap-frog, 
A  rush   and   rumble  and   roar, 

And  a  never-ceasing  dashing 

"Gainst  the  rocks  upon  the  shore — 

Is  this,   dear  friends,   a  faint  picture 

Of  the  scene  before  you  spread 
As  you  gaze  on  the  grand  old  ocean 
From  the  heights  of  Marblehead? 

Bring  a  breath  from  the  salt  sea  with  you, 
And  a  glimpse  of  its  snowy  foam, 

To  refresh  those  left  behind  you 
In   your   distant,    inland   home. 


46 


TO  THE  ANNA  W. 

A  vision   of  life  and  beauty, 
Afloat  on  the  restless  tide; 

A  white-winged  bird  of  ocean 
With  easy,   graceful  glide! 

Tossing  on  rolling  billows, 
Heeding  not  blinding  spray, 

Free  as  a  bird  of  the  mountain 
She  boundeth  away  and  away. 

All  hail  to  the  Anna  W., 

With  her  beautiful  snowy  sail! 

Long  may  she  bound  o'er  the  waters, 
Fearing  no  rising  gale. 

Long  may  she  bring  to  the  weary, 
With  trials  and  burdens  oppressed, 

Who  steal  away  from  life's  turmoil 
The  blessings  of  hope  and  rest. 

For  afloat  on  the  restless  billows 
The  burdens  of  life  slip  away, 

Fresh  hope  is  gained  for  the  future, 
Fresh  strength  is  gained  for  the  day. 


47 


BON  VOYAGE 

Blow  softly,  ye  winds  of  the  ocean! 

Roll  gently,  ye  billows,  roll! 
Speed  swiftly  and  safely,  good  vessel, 

Speed  swiftly  away  to  thy  goal! 

A   precious   treasure   thou  bearest, 
Good  ship,  o'er  the  restless  sea; 

Then  speed  like  a  bird  of  the  mountain, 
Speed   onward,   untrammeled   and   free. 

O'er  thy  path  the  dome  of  heaven 
Doth  ever  keep  watch  and  ward; 

While  the  moon  and  stars  at  night-time 
As  vigilant  sentinels  guard. 

May  He  who  these  wonders  created, 
Who  guides  us  safely  on  land, 

And  Who  holds  the  boundless  ocean 
In  the  grasp  of  His  mighty  hand, 

Be  with  those  thou  art  bearing  eastward 

In  far  distant  lands  to  roam, 
Be  with  them,  and  guard  and  keep  them, 

And  bear  them  at  last  safely  home. 


48 


WHERE 
FLOWERS  BLOOM 

AND 
BIRDS  SING 


MEADOW  FLOWERS 

Down  in  the  green  meadow  the  children  are  playing. 

Thru  all  the  long,  sunshiny  hours; 
Around  and  about  them  all  over  the  meadow 

Bloom  brightly  the  gay  Springtime  flowers. 

Have  the  children  discovered  the  end  of  the  rainbow? 

Here  buttercups  brim  o'er  with  gold. 
You    never   would    miss    them    although    they   should 
gather 

All  the  flowers  such  small  hands  can  hold. 

And  down  'mong  the  grasses  red  clover  is  blooming, 

With  honey-bags  full  for  the  bees; 
With  its  delicate  perfume  the  warm  air  is  scented, 

Borne  gently  about  by  the  breeze. 

Then  daisies  so  many  you  never  can  count  them 

No  matter  how  hard  you  may  try, 

Whose  flower-leaves  are  glossy  and  white  as  the  snow 
drift, 

Glance  upward  with  bright  golden  eye. 

As  a  dream  I  can  hear  the  children's  sweet  voices, 
Though  they're  hid  'mong  the  grasses  tall. 

Just  what  they  are  doing,  they  never  have  hinted, 
Busy,  busy  is  each, — and  all. 

Now  they've  chosen  a  maiden,  a  rosy-cheeked  maiden, 

Golden-haired,  lovely,  and  sweet; 

They  crown  her  with  daisies,  wind  daisy-chains  round 
her, 

And  hail  her  as  "Queen  Marguerite." 

51 


THE  HAREBELLS 

I  rested  on  a  hillside  lone 

Drinking  deep  daughts  of  cool,  pure  air; 
The  lake  in  burnished  beauty  shone, 

Mountain  and  cloud  lay  mirrored  there. 
On  every  side  kind  Nature  smiled, 
And   with   her   charms   my  heart   beguiled. 

Long  mountain  slopes  in  graceful  lines 
Curved  to  the  margin  of  the  lake; 

Green  forest  boughs  and  trailing  vines 

Reached  down  to  meet  sweet  fern  and  brake. 

My  soul  o'erfull,  my  every  sense 

Tingled  and  thrilled  with  joy  intense. 

Peace  fell  upon  me  like  a  dew, 

Touching  my  eyes  with   gentle  wand; 

A  nearer  glimpse  of  heaven's  own  blue 
Seemed  closing  in  on  every  hand; 

When,  lo!  my  eyes  oped  wide  to  see 

Blue  harebells  smile,  and  nod  to  me. 

They  curtsied  on  the  green  hillside, 

Their  winning  smiles  were  everywhere, 

Charming  the  sight,  and  spreading  wide 
A  scene  enchanting,  passing  fair. 

I  looked  and  looked.      Into  my  soul 

A  sense  of  peace  and  comfort  stole. 


52 


Miracles  of  quaint,   airy  grace, 

Smiled  coyly  all  the  winsome  things. 

Love  shone  in  every  beaming  face; 
My  spirit  soared  as  if  on  wings 

Into  that  realm  where  Love  and  Light 

Prevail,   and  faith  is  lost  in  sight. 

And  now  when  seeking  quiet  rest 
'Mid  petty  cares  in  life's  turmoil, 

My  self  reclines  on  Nature's  breast, 
Forgotten  are  the  bonds  of  toil. 

The  harebells  nod.      Past  sense  and  time 

My  spirit  hears  a  low,  sweet  chime. 


S3 


BIRD  SONGS 

I  went  to  the  country, 

'Twas  early  in  Spring, 
Because  I  was  hungry 

To  hear  the  birds  sing. 
I  woke  in  the  morning 

While  yet  it  was  dark; 
Not  one  bird  was  singing, 

Not  even  a  lark. 
Not  a  word 
Sang  a  bird. 

Then  I  heard  a  faint  whisper 

That  gave  me  a  thrill, 
A  soft  little  note  with 

A  musical  trill, 
As  though  a  shy  songster, 

While  yet  half  asleep, 
Had  seen  morning's  first  ray 

Into  his  world  peep. 
Just  a  note 
From  bird  throat. 

And  to  this  faint  whisper, 

Another  wee  bird 
Gave  a  sweet  little  answer, 

As  plainly  I  heard; 
And  others  joined  with  them, 

Until  before  long, 
I  could  hear  all  about  me 

Sweet  snatches  of  song. 
Many  a  bird 
Then  I  heard. 

54 


"Cheer  up,"  called  bold  Robin, 

So  loud  and  so  clear, 
Not  a  bird  of  them  all 

Could  choose  but  to  hear; 
While  the  lark   sang  and 

Mounted  away,  away, 
To  welcome  the  dawn  of 

The  oncoming  day. 
Sweet  and  long 
Rose  his  song. 

Now  the  birds'  morning  concert 

Was  on  in  full  swing; 
With  music  the  woodlands 

And  dells  were  a-ring; 
And  my  heart  with  joy  thrilled, 

The  air  all  around, 
The  sweet  air  of  morning, 

Was  vibrant  with  sound. 
Each   with   zest 
Did  his  best. 

Enraptured  I  listened 

While  all  the  birds  sang; 
'Twas  a  paean  of  praise 

That  in  my  ears  rang; 
No  harsh  sound  was  heard, 

No  single   false  note 
Marred  the  music  that  rose 

From  each  swelling  throat. 
From  all  throats 
Came  pure  notes. 


55 


One  shy  little  songster, 

With  joy  brimming  over, 
Sang  a  clear,  rippling  song, 

The  song  of  a  lover; 
'Twas    the    dainty    song-sparrow, 

Whose  notes  I  love  best, 
Warbling  sweetly  while  seeking 

A  spot  for  his  nest. 
Sweet  his  song 
Tinkled    long. 


56 


EVENTIDE  IN  VEERY  COVE 

The  evening  shades  fall  softly 
As  sinks  the  golden  sun, 

And  a  calm,  holy  radiance 
Proclaims  that  night  steals  on. 

The  ruffling  breeze  has  fallen, 
The  surface  of  the  lake 

Shows  not  a  tiny  ripple 

Against  the  shores  to  break. 

And  now  as  fast  approaches 
The  mystic  hour  I  love, 

I  dip  my  paddles  softly 
And  hasten  to  the  cove. 

There  all  the  birds  are  singing 
Their  evening  roundelay, 

In  unison  recounting 

The  blessings  of  the  day. 

The  air  about  is  throbbing 
With  tender,  liquid  notes, 

From  hidden  forest  passes 
The  sweetest  music  floats; 

For  while  the  shadows  lengthen, 
The  forest  ways  grow  dim, 

The  hermit-thrush  is  softly 
Chanting  his  vesper  hymn. 


57 


And  far  and  near  the  veery 
Trills  clear  his  evening  song, 

While  lakeside  rocks  and  bushes 
The  harmony  prolong. 

A  wondrous,  peaceful  quiet 

Gently  envelops  me, 
Life's  cares  are  all  forgotten, 

I  listen  dreamily. 

For  'tis  the  hour  for  worship, 

When  heart  to  heart  draws  near, 

When  Nature's  God  is  speaking 
To  all  who  choose  to  hear. 

To  Him  the  sweet  bird-minstrels, 

Day's  busy  labors  o'er, 
Their  hearts  with  rapture  thrilling 

Their  ecstasy  outpour. 

But  when  above  the  treetops 
Bright  stars  begin  to  peep, 

The  happy,  feathered  songsters 
Have  sung  themselves  to  sleep. 

Night's  shadows  deepen  'round  me, 

My  spirit  is  a-thrill, 
When  far  away,  then  nearer, 

I  hear  the  whip-poor-will. 


58 


With  rapid,  breathless  accents 

He  stirs  the  quiet  air, 
"Whip-poor-will,"  whistling,  calling, 

With  constant,   earnest  care. 

Once  more  I  take  the  paddles 
And  homeward   turn  my  face, 

Reluctant  still  to  break  the  spell 
Of  this  sweet,  sheltered  place. 

Above,  below,  around  me 
New  beauties   now   awake, 

For  moon  and  stars  are  pictured 
Clear  in  the  placid  lake. 

A  loving,  gracious  Presence 
Seems  brooding  everywhere, 

All  earthly  creatures  keeping 
Under  His  watchful  care. 

And  with  heart  overflowing 
My  eyes  with  tears  grow  dim, 

And  once  again  in  thought  I  hear 
And  join  the  vesper  hymn. 


r 
59 


THE  ORIOLE 

With    glancing   wings 
And  breast  of  flame 

To  the  old  elm  tree 
An  oriole  came. 

And  he  whistled  and  sang 
From  his  perch   up   high, 

"Oh,  the  tree  is  mine, 
And  the  air  and  sky." 

Then  he  and  his  mate, 

Of  weavers  the  best, 
Far  out  on  the  twig 

Built  a  hanging  nest. 

And  he  whistled  and  sang 
With  a  heart  full  of  glee, 

"Oh,  the  whole  world  belongs 
To  my  mate  and  me." 


60 


THE  ROSE'S  MESSAGE 

A  dainty  rose,  a  wilding  rose, 
Was  blooming  by  the  way; 

It  smiled  to  me,  and  nodded, 
As  if  to  say,  "Good  day!" 

That  smile  and  nod  went  with  me 
Throughout  that  busy  day. 

Where'er  I  went,  in  passing 

I   met  a  smiling  face, 
"What  can  have  made,"   I  idly  thought, 

"Earth  such  a  happy  place?" 
And  then  I  saw  a  sweet,  wild  rose 

Clothed  with  unconscious  grace. 


61 


SONG  OF  THE  FLOWERS 

We've  brought  you  a  message,  good  friends,  today, 

A  word  of  cheer, 
And  this  is  our  message, — We've  come  to  say, 

Springtime  is  here! 

We  were  cosily  sleeping  in  warm  winter  beds, 

When  a  soft  tap,  tap, 
Of  trickling  raindrops  over  our  heads, 

Disturbed  our  nap. 

A  bluebird  was  singing — we  heard  his  voice 

Say,  sweet  and  clear, 
"The  Winter  is  over!     Rejoice!     Rejoice! 

Springtime  is  here!" 

Busily  working  with  might  and  main, 

Ere  long  we  found 
We  were  able  to  lift  our  heads  again 

Above  the  ground. 

"Tis  joy  to  breathe  the  soft,  sweet  air; 

And  up  on  high 
To  see  the  great,  round,  golden  sun, 

And  the  blue  sky. 

So  this  is  the  message  we've  brought  today, 

Our  word  of  cheer; 
Cold  Winter  has  fled  away,  away. 

Springtime  is  here! 

Yes,  Springtime  is  here! 


62 


TRAILING  ARBUTUS 

By  a  sunny  hillside  path 

Where  the  south  wind  blew, 

Lay  a  bed  of  bright  green  leaves 
Such   as  summer  knew. 

And   a   fragrance,    dainty,    sweet, 

Seemed  to  fill  the  air, 
Calling  to  us  pleasant  thoughts, 

Spreading    everywhere. 

Then  we  made  a  search  for  flowers 

And  were  well  repaid, 
For  we  found  Arbutus  sweet 

In    the    leaflet's    shade. 

Gathered  we  the  lovely  blooms 

White  with  rosy  glow. 
Sweetest  they  of  all  the  flowers 

That  in  Springtime  blow. 


63  ' 


VIOLETS 

Violets!      Violets!      Oh,   are  you  here? 

Then  it  is  Spring. 
The  sun's  shining  warm,  the  sky's  blue  and  clear, 

And  the  birds  sing. 

Spring  couldn't  come  without  you,  sweet  flowers, 

As  I  well  knew ; 
So  I've  been  hunting  and  hunting  for  hours, 

Looking  for  you. 

Snuggle  up  close  to  the  rock's  friendly  shade 

When  the  winds  blow; 
Close  your  eyes  tight  and  don't  be  afraid, 

If  it  should  snow. 

For  from  yon  tree-top  in  loud,  happy  tones. 

Robin  sings  clear, 
"Winter  is  over,  and  snow- time  is  gone, 

Spring — Spring   is   here!" 


64 


THE  SWEET  BRIER  ROSE 

A  dainty  pink  rose 
With  a  heart  of  gold 

In  a  dark,  tangled  corner 
Began   to   unfold. 

A  sad  one  was  charmed 

With  its  beauty  and  grace, 

And  the  delicate  fragrance 
Pervading  the  place. 

Sweet  peace  came  with  watching 
The  brave  little  flower, 

And  hope  and  fresh  courage 
Revived  in  that  hour. 


65 


CALIFORNIA  POPPIES 

O  blue  were  the  mountains  before  us, 

And  the  air  was  crystal  clear, 
One  cool,  early  morning  in  Springtime. 
Bonniest  time  of  the  year! 

And,  O,  the  golden  poppies! 
The  orange  and  golden  poppies! 
Bright  California  poppies 
Were  scattered  far  and  near. 

Swiftly  we  rode  toward  the  mountains 

In  the  morning's  bright  sunshine, 
Our  hearts  all  attuned  to  their  grandeur, 
And  gladdened  by  Nature's  wine. 
And,  O,  the  golden  poppies! 
The  wonderful,  golden  poppies! 
Gay  California  poppies 
Glowed  in  the  clear  sunshine. 

All  about  us  the  wind  was  blowing, 

As  we  climbed  the  rugged  way 
That  guided  us  over  the  mountains, 
Where  Nature's  great  forces  play. 
But  O,  the  golden  poppies! 
The  beautiful  golden  poppies! 
Glad  California  poppies 
Bloomed  all  along  the  way. 


Then  sped  we  beyond  the  mountains, 

Thru  forests  of  mighty  oak, 
Where  babbled  and  sparkled  the  streamlets 
That  among  the  rocks  awoke. 
And  O,  the  golden  poppies! 
The  gorgeous,  golden  poppies! 
Bright  California  poppies 
A  glad  "good  morning"  spoke. 

There  were  countless  numbers  of  them, 

Making  the  hillsides  aflame, 
As  they  waved  in  the  breeze  swift  blowing, 
Like  a  fire  that  speeding  came. 
And  O,  the  golden  poppies! 
The  orange  and  golden  poppies! 
Gay  California  poppies 
Waved  like  a  rushing  flame. 

O  the  mountains  were  grand,  majestic, 

Of  cerulean  blue  the  sky; 
Of  crystalline  clearness  the  waters, 
Fast  rushing  and  tumbling  by. 
But  O,  the  golden  poppies! 
The  beautiful,  golden  poppies! 
Glad  California  poppies 
On  memory's,  walls  hang  high! 


67 


LOVING  THOUGHT  AND 
EARNEST  FEELING 


TO  MY  FRIENDS 

Each  day  this  prayer  to  Heaven  ascends, 
Lord,  make  me  worthy  of  my  friends. 

The  old,  the  young,  the  true,  the  tried, 
Who  tread  life's  pathway  by  my  side. 

My  heart  o'erflows.     I  humbly  pray 
God  bless  them  every  one  today. 

To  you  who  my  life  enter  in 
By  closer  ties,  dear  ties  of  kin, 

My  love  flows  with  a  fuller  tide, 
As  thus  we  journey,  side  by  side. 

May  heavenly  blessings  on  you  shower, 
Moment  by  moment,  hour  by  hour. 


71 


TO  S.  G.  Y. 

On  Her  90th  Birthday 

There  hangs  on  the  walls  of  memory 

A  portrait,   passing  fair, 
And  a  light  that  seemeth   from  heaven 

Rests  on  the  brow  and  hair. 

'Tis  a  gracious,  queenly  woman, 

Her  lovely  face  aglow 
With  the  light  of  a  happy  spirit, 

In  the  days  of  long  ago. 

How    my   child-heart   thrilled    with    rapture 

In  the  sunshine  of  that  smile, 
And  to  higher,   holier  ideals 

My  thoughts  were  led  the  while. 

Beside  her,   arm-encircled, 

Uplifted  by  her  great  love, 
Behold  I  my  sainted  mother, 

Now  safe  in  Heaven  above. 

The  hand  of  time  has  not  darkened 
The   smile  on   that  love-lit   face, 

Nor  robbed  the  charm  of  thy  greeting 
Of  sweet,    unconscious   grace. 


72 


A  halo  of  silvery  whiteness 

Encircles  thy  placid  brow, 
The  promise  of  early  womanhood 

Bears  fuller  fruitage  now. 

But  though  thy  years  have  numbered 

A  full  four-score  and  ten, 
Life  ever  for  thee  holds  sweetness; 

Thou  art  young  in  heart  as  then. 

Dear  friend  of  my  early  childhood, 
Dear  friend   of   maturer  years, 

Thy   friendship's   a   priceless    treasure, 
A   gift   that  blesses  and  cheers. 

Uplifted,    supported   and   strengthened 
By  the  strong  arm  of  Infinite  Love, 

May  thy  pathway  grow  fairer  and  brighter, 
For  it  leads  to  a  mansion  above. 

And  there,  amid  glad  hallelujahs, 

May  we  meet  near  the  heavenly  throne, 

To  receive  from  the  lips  of  the  Master 
That  sweetest  of  welcomes,  "Well  done!" 


73 


THE  GOLDEN  LINING 

Sunset's  golden  beams  were  gilding 
Budding  treetops  with  their  light, 

And  above  the  clouds  were  gleaming 
In  a  flood  of  crimson  bright. 

Darkly  lowered  the  clouds  of  heaven, 

Gloomy,   dreary  to  the  view, 
Till  the  sun,  his  course  pursuing, 

From  a  rift  came  peeping  thru. 

Earth  all  dark,  and  dull,  and  dreary, 
Drooping  on  that  stormy  day, 

Shone  anew  with  gorgeous  splendor, 
And  the  shadows  fled  away. 

Hearts  o'erburdened,  weighed  with  sorrow, 
Feeling  that  the  day  was  theirs, 

Like  themselves,   all  sad  and  cheerless, 
Caught  the  sunshine  unawares. 

For  the  dancing  sunbeams,  sparkling, 
Over  field,  and  hill,  and  tree, 

Seemed  as  near  the  light  of  heaven 
As  an  earthly  thing  could  be; 

And  the  brightness  pierced   the  shadows, 

Casting  them  on  either  side, 
While  adown  the  path  thus  opened 

Gushed  a  sunbeam  bright  and  wide, 


74 


And  upturned  the  golden  lining, 
Hidden  in  that  darksome  night, 

'Till  all  dreary  thoughts  and  feelings 
Fled  before  the  heavenly  light. 

For  is  not  the  Father  ever 
Watching,  waiting  for  a  rift 

Where  He  may  with  loving  fingers 
Send  a  golden  beam  adrift? 

When  is  learned  the  needful  lesson, 
Faith  and  love  are  closely  proved, 

He  is  ready  with  a  sunbeam, 

For  He  chastened  whom  He  loved. 


75 


THE  HOUR  GLASS 

It  is  only  a  tiny  hour  glass 

That  a  childish  hand  may  hold, 

And  a  streamlet  trickling  thru  it 
Of  shining  desert  gold. 

And  'tis  grain  by  grain,  from  glass  to  glass, 

That  the  tiny  sand-drops  hourly  pass. 

It  is  only  a  tiny  hour  glass, 

But  each  shining  golden  grain 

Marks  a  moment  of  joy  and  pleasure, 
A  moment  of  sorrow  and  pain. 

To  sad  hearts  the  hours  pass  slowly  by, 

At  joy's  light  touch  they  quickly  fly. 

Each  swiftly  fleeting  moment 

Wields  a  tremendous  power; 
The  destinies  of  a  nation 

May  be  changed  in  a  single  hour. 
Use  then  the  hours  in  the  cause  of  Right, 
And  darkness  must  yield  to  a  Hood  of  light. 


76 


LET  US  HAVE  PEACE 

"Thou  shall  not  kill,"  rang  out  in  tones  of  thunder 

From  Sinai's  peak, 
And  all  were  bowed  with  trembling  fear  and  wonder 

Who  heard  God  speak. 

Still  that  command  is  ringing  down  the  ages 

In  accents  clear; 
Shall  we  who  read  and  love  the  Bible's  pages, 

Choose  not  to  hear? 

When  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  to  earth  descended 

For  man's  release, 
With  holy  anthems  angel  choirs  attended 

Proclaiming,    "Peace." 

And  He,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  was  meek  and  lowly, 

No  thought  of  strife 
Marred  the  blessed  picture  of  that  pure  and  holy, 

That  blameless  life. 

Let  earnest  cries  arise  to  God  the  Father, 
For  strength  and  power 

Rightly  to  penetrate  the  clouds  that  gather 
This  trying  hour. 

Not  by  the  roll  of  drums,  the  bugle's  calling, 

The  clash  of  arms, 
The  cannon's  roar,  the  battle  din  appalling, 

War's  dread  alarms. 


77 


But  in  a  patient,  watchful,  prayerful  spirit, 

To  wisdom  seek 
That  firm  forbearance  may  give  weight  and  merit 

To  words  we  speak. 

Relieve  those  suffering  from  oppression  bitter, 

The  hungry  feed; 
Show  to  the  world  we  are  in  name  and  nature 

Christians  indeed. 

Let  savage  nations  sunk  in  superstition, 

Claim  life  for  life; 
Be  ours  the  grander,  nobler,  holier  mission 

To  banish  strife. 

And  when  our  hearts  are  overwhelmed  with  sadness 

For  sin  and  wrong, 
And  bitter  memories  goading  unto  madness 

Around  us  throng. 

Turn  to  that  Savior  in  whose  love  abounding 

We  seek  to  live; 
His  prayer  was,  on  the  cross,  fierce  foes  surrounding, 

"Father,  forgive." 

War's  dreadful  specter  with  blood-dripping  fingers, 

And  hideous  mien, 
Amid  the  councils  of  the  nations  lingers 

Hateful  when  seen. 


78 


The  horrid  Rend  with  appetite  insatiate, 

Greedy  for  gore, 
Not  satisfied  with  victims,  wan,  emaciate, 

Cries  still,  "More.  More." 

And  shall  we  sacrifice  on  war's  dread  altar 

Our  country's  best? 
Well  may  our  eyes  grow  dim,  our  brave  hearts  falter 

At  this  behest. 

"Let  us  have  Peace."  When  Right  to  Wrong  has  yielded 

Evil  seems  good. 
May  our  loved  country's  name  and  fame  be  shielded 

From  deeds  of  blood. 

And  when  the  dove  of  Peace  on  snow-white  pinions 

Shall  float  above, 
Then  shall  the  Earth  in  all  its  wide  dominions, 

Know,  "God  is  love." 

1899. 


79 


THY  KINGDOM  COME 

In  Thy  own  way  and  time,  dear  Lord, 

Bid  this  dread  carnage  cease, 
And  usher  in  for  stricken  man 

Thy  blessed  reign  of  peace. 

We  cannot  tell,  we  know  not  how 

This  victory  may  be  won, 
But  bow  our  heads,  and  humbly  pray, 

"Father,  Thy  will  be  done." 

Give  unto  us,  from  day  to  day, 

A  vision,  broad  and  clear, 
That  we  in  simple  faith  may  do 

Our  duty  now  and  here. 

And  if  it  be  Thy  gracious  will 

To  grant  this  precious  boon, 
Oh,  may  the  dew  of  peace,  dear  Lord, 

Descend  upon  us  soon. 

When  Love  o'ercomes  fierce  hate  and  strife 

As  sunshine  follows  rain, 
Then  shall  Thy  kingdom  come  on  earth, 

And  Christ  Himself  shall  reign. 
1918. 


80 


PEACE 

Peace,   brothers,   peace! 

Let  hatred  and  bloodshed  cease. 
The  Father  outstretches  His  holy  hand, 
Oh,  hearken  at  once  to  His  royal  command, 

Peace,  brothers,   peace! 

Peace,   brothers,   peace! 

Then  sorrow  shall  know  surcease. 
The  widow's  low  moan,  the  orphan's  sad  cry, 
Have  entered  the  ears  of  the  Lord  on  high. 

Peace,   brothers,   peace! 

Peace,   brothers,   peace! 

Then  faith  and  hope  will  increase. 
The  Father  outstretches  His  arms  above 
In  Infinite  pity,  Infinite  love. 

Peace,   brothers,   peace! 

1915. 


81 


HE  GIVETH  HIS  BELOVED  SLEEP 

When  dark  the  shadows  loom  around, 
And  sad  ones  weary  vigils  keep, 

God   lays  His  loving  hand  adown 
And  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

When  sickness  rends  the  wasted  frame, 
When  chilling  night-dews  o'er  us  creep, 

He  lays  His  soothing  hand  adown 
And  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

When  suffering,  bitter  and  severe, 

Calls  forth  our  sympathy  most  deep, 

He  lays  His  gentle  hand  adown 
And  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

When  death  comes  stealing  on  apace 

And  friends  but  gather  'round  to  weep, 

He  lays  His  restful  hand  adown 
And   "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 


82 


THE  RIVER 

She  paused  on  the  brink  of  the  River, 
Whose  waters  flow  swiftly  and  dark, 

'Twixt  earth  and  the  Heavenly  City, 
And  threaten  to  o'erwhelm  each  bark. 

One  swift  glance  she  gave  at  the  River, 
And  then,  with  eyes  holden  above, 

Saw  only  outstretched  for  her  succor 
The  strong  arms  of  Infinite  Love. 

And  reflecting  the  glow  of  that  city, 
Whose  light  is  the  glory  of  God, 

Trusting  wholly  herself  to  her  Savior, 
She  passed  over  the  river  dry-shod. 


83 


IF  I  HAD  KNOWN 

If  I  had  known  when  sitting  by  thy  side, 

The  dread  Death  Angel  waited  by  the  door, 

What  words  of  loving  farewell  had  I  then 
Repeated  o'er  and  o'er. 

If  I  had  known  that  quiet  afternoon 

When  walking  slowly  o'er  the  grassy  lawn, 

The  pale-faced  messenger  would  bear  thee  hence 
At  breaking  of  the  dawn; 

I  would  have  said,   "Dread  Angel,  stay  thy  hand, 

The  earth  is  beautiful,  the  day  is  fair; 
The  birds  are  nesting  'mong  the  soft  green  leaves, 

Sweet  perfumes  fill  the  air. 

"She  loves  the  Springtime  with  its  birds  and  flowers, 
When  gentle  zephyrs  cool  the  heated  brow; 

Come,  if  thou  must,  when  days  are  dark  and  cold, 
But,  Angel,  Oh!  not  now." 

God  knoweth  best.      He  gently  leads  His  own 
In  pastures  green,  where  cooling  waters  flow. 

Thru  the  dark  valley  guided  by  His  hand 
All  fearlessly  they  go. 

And  from  that  Heavenly  Home  where  thou  hast  gone 
I  could  not  call  thee  back  to  earth  again. 

No  sorrow's  there,  nor  pain.      My  earthly  loss 
Is  thy  Eternal  Gain. 

1906. 


84 


HOME  TIES 

The  old  folks  are  watching  and  waiting, 
For  the  days  of  the  years  have  been  long 

Since  you  left  them  to  carve  out  your  future 
With  merry  laughter  and  song. 

They  are  watching  and   waiting,    dear  brothers, 
And  the  latchstring  is  out  at  the  door. 

Come  quickly  to  get  their  warm  welcome 
Ere  the  long  weary  waiting  is  o'er. 

Ere  they  hear  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening 
The  sweet  voice  of  Jesus  say,   "Come. 

You've    been    proven,     dear    ones,     and     found 

worthy; 
Come  now  to  your  heavenly  home." 


85 


MOTHER  LOVE 

There's  a  story  oft  told,  that  you  no  doubt  have  heart 
Of  the  eagles  that  build  their  nest  high 

'Mong  the  grand  mountain  peaks,  with  naught  o'erhea 
But  the  wondrous  blue  dome  of  the  sky. 

When    the    fully-fledged    eaglets    grown    sturdy    an 
strong, 

To  the  nest  and  the  rocks  closely  cling, 
Peering  timidly  into  the  depths  far  below, 

Afraid  from  their  home  to  take  wing. 

The  parent  birds  use  every  means  in  their  power, 

To  tempt  them  their  pinions  to  try, 
In  majesty  soaring  above  and  around, 

Up  and  up,  till  they're  lost  in  the  sky. 

But  when  the  young  eaglets  still  fear  to  attempt 

A  flight  in  the  pure,  upper  air, 
Clinging  closely  to  earth,  not  soaring  aloft, 

In  spite  of  all  trouble  and  care, 

The  mother  bird  knowing  that  only  with  use 
Can  the  pinions  for  flight  be  made  strong, 

That  the  azure  above,  and  the  valley  beneath, 
To  the  bold  and  courageous  belong, 

With  a  sudden,  quick  movement  sends  into  the  worlc 

Her  offspring  that  timidly  clings, 
And  thus  the  young  eaglet  discovers  at  once 

The  use  of  its  wide-spreading  wings. 


86 


But  she  hovers  around  with  encouraging  cries, 

Now  flying  below,  then  above; 
For  this  act,  seeming  cruel  and  heartless,  no  doubt, 

Is  a  proof  of  her  wise  mother  love. 

'Tis  thus,  my  dear  friends,  the  story  is  told, 

Whether  truly  or  not,  who  can  say; 
The  pinions  untried  with  weakness  will  trail, 

But  use  makes  them  stronger  each  day. 

Should  the  goal  that  we  seek  seem  a  far,  dizzy  height, 

And  our  pinions  too  feeble  to  try, 
We  courage  and  hope  from  the  eaglets  must  learn 

Ere  we,  too,  can  mount  to  the  sky. 


GIVING 

Joy  comes  with  giving. 

We   give  when  we  love. 
Love   richer   grows  with   giving, 
Life  fuller,  more  worth  living. 

Christ-love,  that  gift  most  precious, 

Lights  earth   and   Heaven  above. 


87 


A  CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE 

Make  Christmas  a  glad   day  for  some   one 
Who  is  sad,  and  weary,  and  lone; 

And  the  joy  that  we  give  to  another 
Will  become  very  truly  our  own. 

Not  gifts  we  receive  all  unthinking, 
But  those  that  we  willingly  share, 

Make  our  lives  grow  fuller  and  richer, 
Lift  burdens  of  sorrow  and  care. 

'Twas  long,  long  ago,  that  first  Christmas, 
When  the  blessed  Christ-child  came 

His  whole  life  was  spent  helping  others; 
Let  us  give  then,  our  help  in  His  name. 


88 


NEW  YEAR 

Each  New  Year's  morn  we  turn  a  leaf 
Of  life's  much-checkered  pages, 

And  write  a  record  that  will  last 
Thru  long, — aye,  endless, — ages. 

And  daily,  hourly,  entries  new 
Are  made  upon  that  journal, 

That  must  be  settled  ere  we  gain 
A  rest  in  Heaven,  eternal. 

Then  may  each  New  Year  as  it  comes 

And  passes  on  and  o'er  us, 
Find  us  more  earnest  in  the  path 

Of  life  that  lies  before  us. 

That  as  in  eve  the  setting  sun 
Glows  brightly  when  declining, 

Our  lives  may  set  in  loveliness 
With  heavenly  radiance  shining. 


89 


WHEN  LIFE 
IS  YOUNG 


LOVE'S  GIFT 

D.  W.  B. 

When  an  Angel  on  hushed  white  pinions 
Fanned   gently  the  morning  air, 

And  brought  as  a  dear,  precious  token 
A  tiny  baby  fair. 

Kind  Father  Love  woke  to  receive  her 
With  tender,  welcoming  arms; 

Dear  Mother  Love  folded  her  closely, 
And  soothed  her  vague  alarms. 

Sweet  peace  brooded  over  the  household 
When  the  blessed  baby  smiled, 

For  Love  that  is  Infinite,  Holy, 
Came  to  the  earth  as  a  child. 

Then,  hovering  over  the  pillow 
Where  the  precious  treasure  lay, 

Said  the  Angel,  "I'll  guard  and  guide  her 
And  care  for  her  day  by  day. 

"And  because  the  dainty,  wee  maiden 

Is  the  daughter  of  a  king, 
To  crown  all  her  days  with  rich  blessings 

Right  royal  gifts  I  will  bring. 

"Shall  I  dower  the  darling  with  beauty? 

Ah,  beauty  alone  is  a  snare." 
And  yet  while  that  loving  glance  lingered 

She  seemed  more  winning  and  fair. 


93 


"May  these  lips,"   and  he  touched  them  lightly, 
"Speak  only  what's  pure  and  true; 

May  these  hands,  so  daintily  fashioned, 
Be  ready  good  deeds  to  do. 

"May  these  feet,"  and  he  spoke  more  softly, 

"Run  never  in  sinful  ways; 
May  this  life  on  earth  just  beginning, 

Be  a  loving  hymn  of  praise." 

Then  he  spread  his  wings  in  blessing, 

O'er  the  parents  with  the  child, 
"To  you  is  this  treasure  entrusted, 

Pure,   holy,   and   undefiled. 

"And  if  you  but  earnestly  seek  them, 
Wisdom  and  strength  will  be  given 

In  truth  and  in  virtue  to  train  her, 

'Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  ' 

Sweet  peace  rested  still  on  the  household, 

And  with  hearts  lifted  above, 
O'erflowing  with  joy  and  thanksgiving, 

They  knew  that  the  Angel  was  Love. 


94 


A  LITTLE  CHILD 

M.  Y.  B. 

"I  have  given  this  child,"   the  Master  said, 

"To  you  to  rear  and  to  train, 
That  when  her  life's  journey  is  over 

I  may  have  my  own  again." 

And  He  laid  the  tender,  beautiful  babe 

In  the  mother's  waiting  arms; 
She  was  weak  and  weary,   yet  lovingly 

Noted  her  infant  charms. 

"Is  she  ours?"  she  whispered,  her  face  aglow 

With  wonderful  Mother  light, 
"So  frail  and  precious  a  treasure, 

How  can  we  guide  her  aright?" 

But  the  happy  father  bent  tenderly 
O'er  the  mother  with  the  child; 

"She  is  ours,  the  wee,  dainty  darling, 
Sweet,   lovely,   undeftled. 

"We   accept   Thy   trust,    dear   Master, 

But  be  Thou  our  path  beside, 
For  we  can  but  journey  in  safety 

With  Thee  for  our  constant  guide." 

Then  a  radiance  fell  about  them, 

Fairer  than  light  of  morn, 
As  their  heads  in  gratitude  were  bowed 

For  this  gift,  their  eldest  born. 


95 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  LIFE 

Thou  art  launched  on  the  broad  sea  of  life,  little  craft, 

Afloat  on  the  Ocean  of  Time, 
And  faintly  and  far  o'er  the  waters  I  hear, 

The  joy-bells  merrily  chime. 

The  port  thou  hast  entered  is  guarded,  sweetheart, 
By  arms  that  with  love  are  made  strong, 

And  gently  the  winds  of  fair  circumstance  blow 
And  waft  thy  frail  vessel  along. 

Keep  close  to  the  harbor's  safe  shelter,  dear  one, 
Where  rude  waves  may  not  overwhelm, 

And  trust  thyself  wholly  with  never  a  fear, 
For  love's  hand  is  guiding  the  helm. 

There  are  dangers  at  times  on  the  voyage  of  life, 

There  may  be  a  rock  or  a  shoal; 
But  safely  and  sure  thou  wilt  speed  on  thy  way, 

If  thy  eyes  never  turn  from  the  goal. 

For  thy  path  on  the  ocean  of  life,  little  one, 

Is  marked  by  our  Father  above, 
His  strong,  gentle  arms  will  encircle  thee  round, 

And  guide  thee  with  wise,  tender  love. 


96 


HERBERT  AND  ANNA 

Standing  by  the  window-seat 
On  her  busy,  restless  feet, 
See  a  tiny  maiden  fair, 
Laughing  eyes  and  golden  hair. 

Bright  and  merry  little  face, 
Form  of  childish,  winning  grace, 
A  sweet  picture  you  behold, 
Little  Anna,  five  years  old. 

By  the  tiny  maiden's  side 
In  the  window,  sloping  wide, 
Stands  a  sturdy,  restless  boy, 
His  fond  mother's  pride  and  joy. 

Quick  and  active,  bright  and  gay, 
Busy  all  the  livelong  day, 
Strong  and  sturdy,  brave  and  bold, 
This  is  Herbert,  six  years  old. 

Brother,  sister,  six  and  five, 
Swiftly  do  the  years  arrive, 
Swiftly  Time  pursues  his  flight, 
Pausing  not  in  day  or  night. 

Now  the  days  but  slowly  pass 
To  the  little  lad  and  lass, 
And  the  morn  of  life  seems  long, 
Filled  with  beauty  and  with  song. 


97 


But  the  future  years  will  show 
What  the  present  cannot  know; 
And  full  soon  a  shade  of  care 
Will  rest  on  the  golden  hair. 

Soon  the  merry  little  maid 
Into  girlhood  will  have  strayed; 
And  the  lad  as  years  roll  on 
Nearer  manhood  will  have  drawn. 

Brother,   sister,    as  time   flies 
May  you  grow  both  good  and  wise; 
May  you  as  it  keeps  its  way 
Learn   a  little   every  day. 

May  your  hearts  grow  brave  and   strong. 
May  you  know  the  right  from  wrong, 
And  may  He  who  reigns  above 
Draw  you  near  to  Him  in  love. 


98 


ONE  YEAR  OLD 

One  year  old, 

One  year  old. 
Laughing  eyes 

And   hair  of  gold; 
Dimpled  cheeks 

And  dimpled  chin, 
At  what  age  does 

Love    begin  ? 

I  have  always 

Loved  thee,   dear, 
Can   it   be   'tis 

But  a  year 
Since  our  hearts  were 

Set  a-whirl 
By  thee,   dainty 

Baby  girl? 


99 


MARIANA 

Darling,  dainty  little  maid, 

Innocent  and   unafraid, 
With  thy  wonder-widened  eyes, 
And  thy  smile  of  glad  surprise. 

Love  would  fill  thy  days  with  joy, 

Happiness  without  alloy. 

Rosy  cheeks  bespeaking  health, 

Soft  brown  hair,  a  lovely  wealth, 
Rosebud  mouth  with  many  a  pearl, 
Dimpled  chin;  my  precious  girl, 

On  life's  journey  just  begun, 

Thou  hast  now  reached 
Milestone    One! 


100 


BABY  RUTH 

Blue  eyes, 

Like  the  sky, 
Sparkling,    bright, 

Yet  shy. 

Rosy    cheeks, 
Dimpled,  fair, 

Soft,   curling 
Auburn  hair. 

Cherry  red, 
Smiling   lips, 

Showing  teeth, 
Pearly  tips. 

Bright,  happy, 
Mamma's  girl, 

Keeping  things 
In  a  whirl. 

Precious  treasure, 
More  than  gold, 

Darling  baby, 
Two  years  old. 


101 


BONNIE-EYES 

Birthday  greetings,  maiden  fair; 

Bonnie  eyes  and  sunny  hair! 
Sweet  and  good  and  true  to  me 
Is  my  dear  niece,  Dorothy. 

Three  years  number  all  her  days, 

Dainty  child  with  winsome  ways. 

Merry  prattle  greets  the  morn 

When  another  day  is  born. 
Tiny,  busy,   active  feet 
Here  and  there  with  footsteps  fleet 

Bear  the  happy  child,  care-free; 

My  dear,  dainty  Dorothy. 

Blessings  on  thee,  precious  one, 

On  life's  journey  just  begun. 
In  those  wondering  eyes  of  thine 
Purity  and  lovelight  shine. 

Is   this  world   a   glad   surprise? 

Tell   me   true,    O   Bonnie-Eyes! 

Father's  pet  and  mother's  joy! 

Purest  gold  without  alloy, 
May  no  shade  of  fear  or  pain 
Dull  the  busy  little  brain, 

And   the   Father  up   above 

Guide  thee  on  with  wisest  love. 

Angels  ever  guard  thee,  sweet. 

Days  are  long,  but  time  is  fleet. 
To  the  child  now  three  years  old, 
Hour  by  hour  will  life  unfold. 

May  the  years  that  come  to  thee 

Number  many  three  times  three. 

102 


OUR  BABY 

Would  you  see  our  baby? 

Well,    just  come  this  way. 
Here's  the  little  treasure, 

Four   years    old    today. 

She  is  fair  and  rosy, 

Brimful,   too,  of  fun; 
Rising  in  the  morning 

With  the  rising  sun. 

Never  tired  of  playing, 

Never  wants  a  nap, 
And  she  thinks  that  dressing 

Is  a  sad   mishap. 

Hands  and  clothes  are  grimy, 

But  do  you  suppose 
Mud-pies   were  you   making 

You'd  not  soil  your  clothes? 

But  the  stain  is  only 
On    the    outside    seen, 

And  our  precious  darling 
Is  all  pure  within. 

Very   sweet   and    loving, 
Would  not  hurt  a  thing; 

For  she  knows  our  Father 
Cares    for    "ev'ry   sing." 

103 


She  loves  little  birdies, 

And  sweet  blooming  flowers, 
Talks  to  them,  and  pets  them, 

Thru  the  summer  hours. 

Yes,  we  think  our  darling's 

Very  fair  and  sweet, 
And  we  strive  to  rightly 

Guide  her  little  feet. 


104 


DOROTHY 

NINE 

Dorothy's  nine,  did  I  hear  you  say? 
I'm  sure  she  was  eight  but  yesterday. 
Tell  me  if  you  can  how  children  grow, 
And  where  are  the  days  that  come  and  go? 

While  they  speed  by  in  a  busy  whirl, 
Dorothy's  growing  a  great,  big  girl, 
Learning  each  day  to  be  wise  and  good, 
Loving  and  kind  as  children  should. 

She  is  trying  hard  to  catch  her  aunt, 
But  she  never  will  you'll  surely  grant, 
For  years  keep  on,  and  many  are  mine, 
While  Dorothy's  number  only  nine. 


105 


A  SNOW  SCENE 

"Oh,  look,"  cried  my  dear  little  Elsie, 

With  eager  questioning  eyes, 
"At  the  beautiful  snow-white  blanket 

That  has  fallen  from  the  skies." 

Enraptured  she  gazed  from  the  window, 

Clapping  her  hands  in  glee; 
"Oh,  Mother,"  she  cried,   "come,  Mother! 

Come  quick  to  the  window  and  see!" 

In  haste  I  answered  her  summons, 

And  there  before  my  eyes, 
Was  a  vision  of  wonderful  beauty, 

Of  marvel  and  surprise. 

What  late  had  been  brown  and  barren, 

In  the  silence  of  the  night 
In  a  beautiful,  feathery  mantle 

Had  been  hidden  from  our  sight. 

Each  twig  of  the  elms  and  maples 

Enrobed  was  in  eider-down, 
While  the  rough-hewn  posts  at  the  gateway 

Wore  each  a  snowy  gown. 

"God  must  have  seen,"  said  my  Elsie, 

Shaking  her  curls  of  gold, 
"How  the  trees  spread  out  their  branches, 

And  shiver  with  the  cold." 


106 


"So  He  sent  His  snowy  blanket 
To  wrap   them  snug  and  warm, 

And  now  I'm  sure  the  cold  Winter 
Can  never  do  them  harm." 

In  my  arms  I  clasped  my  darling, 

And  in  silence  we  watched  the  snow, 

Still  fluttering  down  from  cloudland 
Transforming  the  scene  below. 

The  quiet  and  peaceful  beauty 

Filled  with  love  our  hearts  that  day, 

When  we  saw  how  the  good  All  Father 
Folded  safe  His  treasures  away. 


107 


A  BOOK  LOVER 

Sweet,   merry,   maiden  Marjorie, 

She  doesn't  know  a  letter. 
I  thought  that  I  loved  books,  but  she 

Is  sure  she  loves  them  better. 

"Why  see,"  she  says,  "my  dollies  sit 
About  this  nice  book  table; 

First  there's  my  darling  Mary  Anne, 
And  by  her  Rose  and  Mabel. 

"You  only  read  the  books,  you  know,' 
The  merry  darling  chatters, 

"But  I  have  fun  with  them,  and  fun's 
The  only  thing  that  matters." 

So  Marjorie  you  must  admit 

Is  surely  a  book-lover; 
She  loves  them  every  bit,  she  says, 

But  most  of  all  the  cover. 


108 


HIS  FAVORITE  COLOR 

"Green  is  my  favorite  color," 

One  little  laddie  said. 
Scarce  seven  happy  summers 

Had  passed  above  his  head. 

"But  why,  my  boy,"   I  asked  him, 
"Why  is  that  color  best?" 

His  choice  was  unexpected, 
But  given  with  much  zest. 

Shyly,  the  long,  dark  lashes 

Drooped  o'er  the  sparkling  eye 

One  moment,  then  he  raised  them, 
And  thus  he  made  reply. 

"Why  I  was  born," — he  answered 
As  gazing  on   the  scene, — 

"In  the  beautiful  *tree-country, 
Where  it  is  always  green." 

Dear  child  from  the  Island  Empire 

Beyond  the  western  sea, 
We  extend   the  loving  welcome 

Of  loyal  hearts  to  thee. 

True   to   each   noble   impulse 

Though  oceans  intervene; 
May  the  memory  of  thy  country 

To  thee  be  "always  green." 

*Japan. 


109 


A  BOY'S  QUESTIONS 

"Why  is  it,  dearest  Mother," 

Said  roguish  little  Will, 
"You  tell  me  that  the  clock  goes, 

When  it  is  standing  still? 

"And  say,  what  has  the  clock  done 

That  it  is  in   disgrace? 
For  'tis  standing  in  the  corner 

With  its  hands  before  its  face. 

"And  can  you  tell  me,  Mother, 
Why  when  you're  sitting  here, 

The  clock  just  whispers,  'Tick!  Tick  I' 
So  low  I  scarce  can  hear. 

"But  when  I  have  been  naughty, 
And  am  in  the  room  alone, 

It  stares  at  me,  and  says,  'Tick!  Tock!' 
In  a  loud,  accusing  tone?" 


110 


SWINGING 

Backward,  forward,  to  and  fro, 
Upward,  downward,  swift  I  go. 
Dearly  do  I  love  to  swing, 
Swing  and  sing,  sing  and  swing; 
Backward,  forward,  to  and  fro, 
Upward,  downward,  swift  I  go. 

Far  among  the  leaves  I  fly 
Catching  glimpses  of  the  sky, 
In  my  heart  the  joybells  ring, 
Swing  and  ring,  ring  and  swing, 
Backward,  forward,  to  and  fro, 
Upward,   downward,  swift  I  go. 

In  the  vireo's  nest  I  peep 
While  the  tiny  birdies  sleep, 
Drinking  in  the  sweet,  cool  air 
Seeing  gladness  everywhere. 

Backward,  forward,  to  and  fro, 
Upward,  downward,  swift  I  go. 


Ill 


MORNING  HYMN 

We  thank  Thee,   Heavenly  Father, 
That  through  the  quiet  night, 

Thy  loving  hand  hath  kept  us 
Until   the  morning  light. 

We  thank  Thee  for  the  sunshine 
That  lights  this  world  of  ours; 

We  thank  Thee  for  the  lovely  birds, 
We  thank  Thee  for  sweet  flowers. 

Help  us  to  do  right,  day  by  day, 

Wherever  we  may  be; 
Thus  may  we  show,  O  Father, 

Our  gratitude  to  Thee. 


112 


VACATION 

There's  a  bit  of  sadness  in  parting, 

But  the  glad  vacation  days 
Are  tinted  with  roseate  color, 

And  seen  thru  a  misty  haze. 

And  we  lay  aside  with  rejoicing 

Our  good  companions,  our  books, 

Turning  our  steps  toward  old  Ocean, 
Or  the  trees  and  singing  brooks. 

Let  us  not  forget  that  deep  sadness 

Today  fills  many  a  heart, 
And  in  bearing  life's  heaviest  burdens 

Be  earnest  to  do  our  part. 

When  the  summer  days  have  grown  shorter 

Vacation  is  nearing  its  end, 
We'll  long  for  the  hearty  hand-clasp, 

And  loving  words  of  a  friend. 

Then  welcome  the  long  vacation, 
With  bright  pleasures  in  its  train; 

And  welcome  the  days  in  Autumn 
When  we  shall  meet  again. 


113 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


PS 
3547 

Y22g 


